


Flesh and Blood

by Mishaa



Series: Search and Kiss and Destroy [8]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Kink Fill, M/M, Mentions of Mikoto Suoh, Prompt Fill, hand mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishaa/pseuds/Mishaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the things that make him twist and turn during the night. Because no matter how many times he tells himself he doesn't care, Saruhiko's betrayal did hurt him, and losing a best friend fucking hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon who asked for Fushimi and Yata's first time, incorporated with [abecrudele](http://abecrudele.livejournal.com/)'s prompt on the [LJ K-Project kink meme](http://projectkkink.livejournal.com). 
> 
> I am 80% sure this is not what you expected.

If he were completely honest with himself, Misaki kind of  _did_  expect Saruhiko's betrayal. It was hard not to when all Saruhiko ever did was mope about, occasionally lending his hand in things but generally just sitting by the counter drinking whatever it is he could get his hands on, ignoring Kusanagi's disapproving frown. ("It's  _because_  I drank when I was a kid that I have the  _right_  to disapprove of underage drinking," he said once when Tatara reprimanded him about his hypocrisy.)

Which is why it's not the betrayal that pissed Misaki off the most. (It was at first; it kind of stings when your best friend leaves you, no matter how much some suppressed part of Misaki expected it.) It was the way he looked so  _happy_  about it.

Did the bastard find some sort of sick enjoyment out of turning his friends—the  _family_  that took him in—into his enemies? Did he like seeing them hurt? Thoughts like these race around in Misaki's head, but the most prominent of all, no matter how much he denied it, is:  _Are you happy now?_  and  _Why were you so sad here?_

 

The first time they met on the field playing for opposite teams, Saruhiko had strutted around in his blue uniform—that, Misaki hates to admit, really did look good on him—with all the confidence in the world, as if he had no shame in being seen with his old clan's  _rival_. It made Misaki want to rip off the goddamn  _smile_  he had the audacity to show, and he really believed he could have, until his board clashed with Saruhiko's blades and he felt the  _power_  rushing out of Saruhiko—power that could have surpassed his own.  _Was this what you left us for? Was power worth more to you than I am?_

Their equal exchange of blows surprised Misaki because he realized that it wasn't just  _him_ that had held back during their petty bickering in the past. How stupid he was to believe Mikoto had graced him with more power than Saruhiko. How stupid he was to have not noticed how Saruhiko held back as well. For all the times they had stood back-to-back facing countless of  _weaker_  enemies, he had never once thought that Saruhiko had more to his power than he had shown.

Blessed with powers from both clans, Misaki knew Saruhiko could have been overwhelmed him. As simple minded as the rest of his clan pegged him for, he knew, at the very least, that going against Saruhiko as he was now would undoubtedly end with his own downfall. But even knowing that, he had gone ahead and raised up to the bait because their past caught up with him and Saruhiko's words rang in his mind, reminding him of promises that he didn't think were going to be kept anytime soon.

" _I'll protect you, Misaki_. _"_

" _I won't let anyone hurt Misaki!"_

" _Misaki only needs me…"_

" _…and I only need Misaki."_

" _Don't ever leave me, Misaki."_

" _Because I won't ever leave you."_

" _Misaki…"_

" _Misaki's the one I treasure the most."_

" _Misaki… I like you."_

" _I love you, Misaki."_

"Don't hold back on me,  _Mi-sa-kiii~_ "

"Don't. You. Fucking. SAY _MY NAME_  YOU BASTARD!"

 

The second time they meet, they were chasing after a Strain that had escaped from the Scepter4 prison and who held information Kusanagi wanted.

Misaki was surprised, to say the least, to see Saruhiko on the field again. In his fury, he hadn't noticed it before, but meeting Saruhiko twice in the field after he had just recently joined their ranks was something curious. Misaki knew nothing about the going-ons of Scepter4, nor did he really want to, but for what he sees on TV, didn't it take a long time for a newbie to enter the field?

Even more surprising was how it was  _Saruhiko_  who had lead the charge. Misaki, of all people, knew a vanguard when he saw one.  _Did he leave because he wanted a higher position?_ he wondered, and then berated himself for even still thinking about it. What's done is done, and he didn't need Saruhiko's reasons, or so he tries to believe.

His thoughts were put to a pause when Saruhiko's blade slices the space Misaki had just occupied before his instincts pushed him away.

"Don't space out now,  _Mi-sa-kiii~_ " Saruhiko croons with that unnerving smile and fire to his eyes that made Misaki's blood boil. Fucking Saru. Fucking Saru and his shitty fucked up happiness.

Misaki's aura blazed out from him. "Don't you fucking say my name!"

A mirthful chuckle escaped Saruhiko as his aura exploded out as well, burning blue against the sun, wild and untamed like a dragon that lost its sanity and who only saw destruction and craved blood.

His rapier against Misaki's metal bat. His knives against Misaki's board. Misaki's powerful fists against his dextrous returns. Saruhiko enjoyed every second of it and Misaki fucking hated the smile that only left his face when the Blue King arrived to put an end to the battle. In the heat of their clash, the Strain had gotten away.

Saruhiko clicks his tongue but does what he's told and sheaths his rapier. He follows Munakata into the van all the while turning a deaf ear to Awashima's scoldings.

Misaki watched him walk away and pretended he hadn't noticed how quick Saruhiko was to leave once the Blue King arrived.  _Is it the him? Do you stay because of the Blue king?_

As a Red clansman, he should spit on Saruhiko's face for betraying them, but as an old friend, he should be glad, shouldn't he? He should be glad he found a hero to save him, even if Saru himself didn't acknowledge it. Saruhiko saw in Munakata what he sees in Mikoto-san, but why did it seem so different and  _why_  did it hurt so goddamn much just thinking about it?

Saruhiko turned a deaf ear to Awashima's incessant nagging and Kamamot tugged him away, telling him it was time to regroup back at the bar.

But even when the distance between them was great, Misaki could still see the grin on Saruhiko's face, could still hear the amusement in Saruhiko's voice, could still feel the energy emanating from his usually lethargic best friend, and it pisses him off still, haunts him even in his sleep because that grin never left Saruhiko's face, nor did the mirth leave his his voice, nor did the energy dwindle even once in their confrontation.

Saruhiko looked truly  _happy_ , and it was fucking with Misaki's mind because Saruhiko found that happiness not in Homra, nor with him, but inScepter4.

These are the things that make him twist and turn during the night. Because no matter how many times he tells himself he doesn't care, Saruhiko's betrayal did hurt him, and losing a best friend fucking hurts.

 

They clash for the third time in the middle of a desolate warehouse, and the only thing besides them in there are cargo blocks Misaki was tasked to protect and the mice that succeeded in escaping the City's regular cleaning.

He'd been disarmed of his bat long ago, along with his shirt which had been torn mercilessly into shreds. Just as well as he'd disarmed Saruhiko of his swords too, and his all his knives are wedged in various places—the cargo boxes, the floor, the wall, everywhere.

Blood seeps out from the wound on Misaki's arm, smudging red all over his black tank top. Bruises are beginning to show and, along with the many scratches he'd attained, are beginning to sting. He can't stop yet though, he doesn't  _want_  to stop. Saruhiko is facing him head on, his eyes void of any reservations, and they were alone. No one would disturb them, and Misaki is willing to die here, if it meant finally figuring out the person he'd thought he knew best.

He isn't that careless with his life, but he's desperate. Desperate to end the nights where tossing and turning took the place of sleep, desperate to end the painful pang on his chest whenever Saruhiko was brought to light, and desperate to end the pitiful looks  _everyone_ sends his way, as if he were an abandoned puppy, or as if he'd gone back to being the lost orphan who'd lost everything he'd owned.

_Leave me alone!_ he wants to scream at them.  _None of you understand!_

Worst was the varying degrees of caution they took around him, as if he were a grenade who lost its pin, and would explode at any moment.

_I don't care for him! I don't give two fucks at all. He's nothing to me, get it? Nothing…!_

"The Red clan's power is weaker than I remembered it to be,  _Mi-sa-kiii~_ " mocks Saruhiko, brushing the blood off his cut lip. His hair is ruffled, sticking out in awkward angles and the ends of his strands are singed, emitting a foul odor that gets lost amongst the smell of gunpowder, predictably from the cargo boxes. He combs it back with his hand so nothing blocks his view.  _This is the most fun I had in days!_

"Shut up," Misaki spits out, along with some blood. "As if you can talk." He starts off in a run and attacks Saruhiko with a series of fiery fists and quick kicks.

Saruhiko dodges most of them, and deflects the rest. He aims a swipe at Misaki's head and Misaki blocks it with his flaming forearm. Saruhiko's own blue flame explodes in a blaze, and Misaki jumps a few meters back to avoid getting burnt.

"Are you a fucking idiot?!" he screams, losing his stance in order to flail his arms about. "We're surrounded by gun powder you piece of shit! Don't burn so fucking bright or we'll  _both_ be sent flying!"

A manic gleam finds its way into Saruhiko's eyes and Misaki's starting to doubt Saruhiko's sanity. "Are you scared to die, Misaki?"

Misaki crosses his arms and scoffs. "As if. Dying in the middle of completing a mission for Homra is the perfect way to die. I just don't want to die with  _you,_ traitor."  _Not when everything's still so messed up with us. Not when we're still fighting. Not when you're still playing the opposite field._

Saruhiko clicks his tongue and seethes. "Don't make me out as the villain here. You  _know_  what's inside these things and yet you still stay with them, your little band of crooks and delinquents."

Misaki charges yet again, aiming for Saruhiko's legs. "Better a crook with good intentions than a traitor hiding behind this twisted sense of justice. " Saruhiko jumps but is thrown off by Misaki flinging one of his scattered knives.

"Don't make me laugh. You're no damn different! You Blues hide behind the laws you yourselves made! You're all just a bunch of stiffs looking down on the rest of us," Misaki wheezes out, gripping his throwing arm. The effort it took to dislodge that knife from the ground added to the pain of the bruises starting to form there. "Is that what you want?! Is this what you fucking left us for?! Throwing us… Throwing  _me_ away because they have better goddamn food or some shit like that?"

"Misaki…" Saruhiko whispers, standing in shock. He puts a hand over his rib to keep the blood from gushing out. The knife had only scraped him, but if he wasn't careful, the combined blood loss could put him at a large disadvantage.

"The fucking  _Blues_ , Saruhiko?! The fucking goddamn  _Blues_?! I could deal with you betraying me, but it wasn't  _just_  me you hurt! Did you even think of Totsuka-san who made us feel at home? Did you think of Kusanagi-san who welcomed us in?  _Did you fucking think of Mikoto-san who took us under his wing? Who fucking_ saved _us?!_ "

White-knuckled and teeth grinding, Saruhiko couldn't find a reply. Silence looms over them as Saruhiko's thoughts threaten to deafen him.  _It's always Mikoto-san with you, isn't it? Mikoto-san this, Mikoto-san that! No fucking end to it all… Always Mikoto-san… Never ending Mikoto-san… Not even when I leave… It's still always Mikoto-san I hear from you. Can't you fucking say anything else?!_

Misaki watches him and hopes to see some sort of regret in Saruhiko's dark blue eyes, he watches for any signs that could tell him Saruhiko felt even the smallest ounce of remorse. He looks and hopes and prays, but what he sees is a blinding rage like he'd never seen before.

He sees something snap in Saruhiko, and his best-friend-turned-enemy stalks towards him, long angry strides and clenched fists. His expression lacks its usual placidity and sarcasm, and for the first time he sees Saruhiko in all seriousness.

"S-Saru-" he says, but is cut off when Saruhiko grabs his chin up, bringing their faces close.

"Oh? You're saying  _my_ name now?" he barks out and the malice seeps out from his voice. "What happened to "Mikoto-san"?" He tilts Misaki's head to the side and stares him down.

Misaki mumbles something like "What?" but Saruhiko's grip on his jaw made it hard to speak.

"You don't  _get_ it do you?" Saruhiko asks softly, his returning back to his signature cynical self. "You… really don't know… Do you?" He throws Misaki aside and laughs mirthlessly.

Misaki hits one of the cargo boxes with a resounding thud and slinks down. he massages his jaw, still feeling Saruhiko's hand there, gripping him with the most force he'd ever known Saruhiko to use when handling him. "Know  _what_?!" he asks, frustrated just  _through_  with all the cryptic messages that everyone but him seems to be able to decode.  _You said it yourself. I'm stupid. I'm an idiot. How do you expect someone like me to get what the hell you're trying to say?!_

Saruhiko shakes his head in exasperation, walking over to Misaki.

"W-What…?" Misaki asks, staring up at Saruhiko's lanky figure looming over him.

_You really don't have clue…_ Saruhiko grabs his wrists forcefully, pulling him up along with them. He reaches for something in back and Misaki stays frozen still, because  _no no no the Saru he knew didn't have those cold eyes._

"The fuck?!" exclaims Misaki, wondering if the Saru he knew really did lose his mind when the distinct sounds of handcuffs clicking to a close shakes him from his stupor. "What the hell is this? Did you finally lose it, stupid monkey?!"

Saruhiko doesn't say anything. He only lifts Misaki up with some effort, and slings him over his shoulder.

Misaki puts up a fight by swinging his legs and moving it however he could, occasionally hitting Saruhiko's face. "What the hell, monkey?! Let me go!"

Surprisingly, Saruhiko lets him down in the middle of an empty floor softly. But that's the last thing he remembers before Saruhiko pinches the nerves right between his jaw and ear with some practiced skill and he slumps to the floor, out cold.

Saruhiko looks up at the large hook hanging from the ceiling. The workers must've used it to transport the bigger boxes that their forklifts could't carry. It was a bit too high up even with his height, so without the burden of Misaki, Saruhiko goes off to find something he could use as leverage around the desolate warehouse.

He finds a dusty long old table that the workers must've used for miscellaneous desk work. He drags this over to the spot and uses it to lift Misaki up enough to hook him securely so that the brunette was more or less at his height now.

He jumps down and inspects his handiwork. Misaki looks perfect. His fiery red hair is ruffled and out in the open, as he had lost his beanie in the scuffle from earlier. His black tank top is ripped around the edges, and Saruhiko resists finishing it off.

He looks perfectly submissive hanging there like that, and for a while Saruhiko could delude himself that Misaki was actually apologizing by being submissive and obedient…

" _Saruhiko, I'm sorry for leaving you."_

" _Saru's always been my number one."_

" _I'm sorry I let myself be taken away by Mikoto-san…"_

" _Please come back, Saruhiko!"_

" _Please…"_

_And yet you call_ me _the traitor?_

The chain jingles and Saruhiko looks up, contemplative, as Misaki shakes himself awake. "Finally awake…?" he asks, noting how Misaki's quick eyes register the situation.

A second to note the lack of steady ground beneath his feet. Another second to hear the clanking of the chain with his every move. Five seconds of reviewing the situation, and two seconds of inward cursing when he finds that there's no way out.

"You've fucking lost it… Haven't you? Let me go  _right now,_  Saru, or I swear I'm going to—!" Saruhiko drowns out the rest of Misaki's words in a kiss. He forces his tongue into Misaki's mouth and Misaki gives in to the kiss. Misaki doesn't notice the hand lightly drifting over his hip until it slips under his top.

"Mmf!" His eyes fly open and he starts to fight Saruhiko off.  _No, no, no…!_

Saruhiko clicks his tongue and uses his other hand to grip Misaki's neck, keeping the him still. Misaki swings his legs and uses it to push him off. Pissed and provoked, he bites down on the brunette's lips and draws some blood.

He pulls away and wipes the red off his lips with his tongue. "For once in your life, won't you be obedient, Mi-sa-ki?" Blue flame enshrouds his hand and he takes Misaki's cheek, dragging the nail on his thumb across the pale skin, cutting it. Red drips down into his hand and he licks it off, his gaze not once leaving Misaki's. "It would do you well to remember who has the upper hand here, Misaki… Now why don't you just be your usual gullible stray dog self and follow orders, hm?"

Misaki stares at him, incredulous. This wasn't the Saru he knew. Or better yet, this isn't the Saru he wants to acknowledge. The Saru he knew wouldn't lay a hand on him like this. Bickering and petty fights never went this far… Misaki could feel Saruhiko's intent, so full of malice and so determined to actually  _hurt_. Dread falls over him as the hope that the dull boy he knew from middle school _—his best friend—_ was still there, still salvageable _—_ the hope he didn't think he still harbored, shatters as the image of Saruhiko now, with blood on his hands and blood on his face, replaces the image of  _his_  Saru, the image he'd tried so hard to preserve.

Saruhiko retrieves a remote from inside his pocket and taps on it. With a bit of a lag, the hook rises, taking Misaki along.

With a hungry gleam in his eye, he lifts up Misaki's top and helps himself to Misaki's torso like a predator who waited long and hard for his meal and wanted to savor every single bite. He starts off by planting his lips below Misaki's bellybutton and nips at it, letting his tongue toy around with the skin there.

Misaki bites his sore lips to keep any sound from leaving his mouth. It gets a bit harder as Saruhiko starts moving upwards, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He barely stifles a moan when Saruhiko's tongue grazes his perk nub, flicking it with his tongue before sucking and biting. He rolls it around with his teeth and Misaki squirms to shake him off, but Saruhiko's got one hand pressing on the small of his back, keeping him in place, while his other index and middle fingers fondle his other nipple.

"Misaki… Mi… saki…  _Misaki_ ," Saruhiko softly chants against his skin. Misaki feels tears start to form in his eyes just as an involuntary shiver runs through his spine and down to his cock.

He bites the inside of his cheeks harder, trying suppress the storm brewing in his head. He's losing his body, but and even his mind threatens to divide him.

He defends it valiantly, but Saruhiko's voice brings to the nightmares he'd fought long nights against. "N-No… Stop…! Saru… Please…!"

_Stop saying my name, stop touching me as if you own me, stop confusing me!_ And to counter Saruhiko's chant, he forms one of his own: _He's a traitor, traitor, traitor…_

He does this because he needs to remind himself. He fights a battle with his heart, and he loses it bit by bit every day, with every syllable that spills out of Saruhiko's mouth. Now even his body's being put to the test, and if he's not careful, he'll lose himself entirely.

"Misaki, just enjoy it…" he feels and hears Saruhiko say, his hands slipping beneath his shorts. "See? You're already hard. Why don't you just stop fighting?" And to prove his point, he grips the base of his cock.

Misaki's eyes widen and he squirms more erratically, trying to desperarely get away from Saruhiko. "N-No! S-Saru, fucking let me go damnit!"

He twists his wrists and lets out a burst of power in his hands to burn off the cuffs. He cries in pain and without reserve as he feels his own flame turn against him, scorching him till there's nothing left to feel.

The cuffs don't melt like he expected them to either. Instead, they absorbed the heat and retained it even after Misaki ceases the power, and the torrid metal turns sharp like a newly forged sword and bites his wrist. He cries until his voice turns hoarse and drained of strength, he lets the tears fall.

Shaking his head, Saruhiko watches in disappointment, and Misaki is reminded of cat watching its food go to waste.

Tilting his head back towards the side, Saruhiko clicks his tongue and says, "Those are special issue  _Scepter4_ hand cuffs, Misaki. It's  _made_  to contain the supernatural: strains and  _members of other clans_."

No snarky reply comes and Misaki continues to slump, hanging helplessly. Sweat replaces the tears streaming down his face as he pants hard. The sight of it goes right down to his own cock, and he reaches down and pops the button on his pants.

"How low do you think of Scepter4, Misaki?" Saruhiko mocks, admiring the red streak running down the length of Misaki's arm, adding color as it glides. "It doesn't bode well to underestimate us, you know."

He thinks of running his tongue on its trail, tasting the coppery liquid. The hairs at the back of his neck stands at the thought. Saruhiko takes out the remote again and brings Misaki down.

"Ne, Misaki…" he starts, and receives more silence. "Do you know how wonderful you look right now?" He moves towards the weak boy and runs a hand up his neck and behind his ear.

He pushes Misaki's head up so their eyes meet before he says, "You'll remember this, won't you? Cuts and burns like these leave the kind of scars that don't disappear… The human skin is just amazing like that, isn't it? It's not enough to just put it in here," his hand moves to tap Misaki's forehead, "because the mind is prone to forgetting even the best of things. But scars… scars once made… they never fade… You can't ever shake them off, no matter how  _sick_  of them you are. Making new ones won't erase the old ones either… Your mind might forget, but your body will not."

His thumb travels across Misaki's cheek, brushing the stray strands. "I could… make another cut here." Misaki turns away, refusing to make any more eye contact.

His hand moves down slowly, his index finger lightly trailing the column of Misaki's neck. "…Or I could cut here…" Involuntarily, Misaki stretches it, groaning.  _Fucking traitor of a body_.

"Here's good too…" Saruhiko's finger traces the line of his spine and Misaki shivers, arching away from the touch.

"Stop," he begs. "Just… stop… No more… please…" he fights back more tears; he'd shed too much for Saruhiko already.  _I don't want you to touch me. You're going to break me. You're a liar and a traitor. Leave me alone._

Miskai's eyes shoot open when he feels a hand on his chest, right where the Homra insignia marks him. "NO!" he screams in a panic.  _Not that. Anything but that._

He sees the manic look return to Saruhiko's eyes and hears his frenzied laugh, mocking him. "Don't you want to match mine, Mi-sa-ki? I could fix up this little  _blemish_ so easily…"

"No! Please…! Not that!" he tries to break free again, but every move stings his wrist. "Not that!"

Saruhiko takes out a knife and caresses it.

Misaki screams frantically. " _No! Stop it! Stop! Anything but that! Anything!"_ " He thrashes despite the pain and lets the tears fall despite his pride. He pushes against Saruhiko and swings his body away. The cuffs cut deeper into him but he doesn't care. That mark is the best thing he owns, and he'd throw everything away if it meant he could keep it. " _Not that!_ "

Saruhiko's grip on the knife tightens, clicking his tongue.  _It's always going to be Homra for you. You'd forget everything that happened before Homra… You'd throw away what I hold most dear, if I wasn't there to make you remember_.

He moves the knife to Misaki's neck. "Anything?" Calling the flames to his other hand he hovers over the mark, letting only his nails graze it.

"Yes…! Just not that…"

Saruhiko taps the remote again and Misaki is eased down onto his knees.

Saruhiko sits on the table, legs spread. He frees his throbbing cock from its confines and raises a brow, daring Misaki to go back on his word. "Suck."

Misaki turns away, fighting with himself internally. "I'm not going to say it twice, Misaki."

Grudgingly, Misaki takes him in his hands and drags his tongue from the base to the head, flicking the slit there.

He takes Saruhiko into his mouth and sucks. Groaning, Saruhiko grabs a mop full of chestnut hair and holds Misaki in place. He thrusts into his mouth, Misaki's teeth scraping his cock.

He thrusts deeper when he feels Misaki moan, the vibrations sending him over the edge. He peeks down and memorizes the picture in front of him: his cock in Misaki's mouth, and Misaki's face flushed, despite and rugged despite the numerous scratches and bruises around it. Scrunched eyebrows and looking like he was enjoying it.

Misaki moans again and he grips his hair harder this time.

It takes him a while to notice, but when he does, it drives him close to his peak. Misaki is sucking him off—he's sucking him off while he touches himself, each pump for every suck and blow and lick. A pleasurable grip with every thrust that Saruhiko does.

"S-Stop… _Ah…!_ " he tugs on Misaki's hair, and growls when he doesn't obey. He hits Misaki across the cheek. "Don't forget your place."

"Bastard," Misaki mumbles and regrets it right after when Saruhiko takes his cock and grips it. " _Hnngh,_ " he bites back a loud moan.

Saruhiko nibbles at Misaki's throat, his free hand roaming all over Misaki's body and occasionally rubbing against his nipples and Misaki just gives up trying to be silent.

Saruhiko tilts Misaki's head to the side and kisses him, letting Misaki taste the copper. He invades Misaki's mouth, turning Misaki's attention away from his wandering hands long enough for him to try to slip in a finger.

Expectedly, Misaki pulls away, wide eyed and horrified. "Hell n-no!"

"This is going to hurt if you don't hold still, Misaki." Saruhiko holds Misaki still enough to slip the entire finger in.

Misaki's bound hands grip Saruhiko's lapels, biting down on Saruhiko's shoulder to muffle the scream. He shakes his head against his shoulder. "…s-st…op," he hisses, when he could bear the pain a little.

Saruhiko takes this as a sign to push in his middle finger. Misaki jolts and cries out, biting and gripping harder than before. Saruhiko doesn't wait for him to calm down and spreads his fingers right away, opening Misaki up.

By the time he inserts in a third finger, Misaki was already rutting against him and moaning out his " _I hate you_ 's"and" _Fucking die_ 's".

He turns and shifts position so Misaki's bending over on the desk, screaming "I fucking hate you so much right now Saru!"

Saruhiko's head enters him and Misaki screams, his voice sharp because  _fuck! And he thought the finger was painful_.

Saruhiko strokes Misaki's cock, planting open-mouthed kisses on his shoulders. He thrusts the rest of his cock in while his other hand plays with one of Misaki's nipple. He grinds against him, not quite ready to thrust yet.

" _F-Fucking s-stupid bastard!_ " Misaki stutters, gripping the edge of the table.

Saruhiko moves when he feels Misaki loosen up, and he drives himself against him with long and hard thrusts, and then shorter, more quicker ones, until only moans would escape from Misaki. He cries Misaki's name with every plunge, and Misaki wants to tell him to shut the fuck up because he'd lost the right to even say his name when he left, but pleasure built up in him and the words died in his throat.

Misaki's release triggers Saruhiko's and they both slump down, drained.

 

When Misaki wakes, he's lying on his belly beside Saruhiko, his wrists free of restraints and his hands bandaged with admirable skill. Saruhiko's coat covers him like a blanket. He could hear Saruhiko a few steps away, speaking to a woman-the Cold Hearted Lady, perhaps?

He gets up and winces a little. Cursing Saruhiko to hell and back in his mind, he stays still and quiet in order to hear the conversation better. But even then, he could only hear a woman's voice, firm and authoritative in her tone. Saruhiko says nothing useful either, only ever spouting out affirmatives.

Saruhiko catches his eye and Misaki tilts his head, silently asking him what was going on. He raises a hand and agrees to the last of the Lieutenant's orders, silently noting them down for his subordinates to go follow as we walks over to Misaki.

When she finishes instructing him, he puts down the phone and relays to Misaki what he'd gotten from Awashima earlier. "Kusanagi-san pulled some strings and acquired the legal documents to own this place. However, Scepter4 is detaining the contents of this building for further investigation. I'm returning to base to submit my paperwork. Scepter4's custody for the property will expire in an hour, which is most likely when the rest of  _them_  will come, if they can follow  _this_  law, at least."

Saruhiko takes his rapier from the table and walks away to the direction of the door. He fees something tug on his pants and for a second he lets himself believe it's Misaki asking him to stay, so he pauses and turns, looking at the brunette expectedly.

Misaki turns away and retracts his hand, softly mumbling, "You never did tell me why…"

"Why what?"

Misaki looks up at him with accusatory eyes. "Why you left."

Saruhiko scoffs bitterly, and shakes his head in defeat. He's not going to get it even if Saruhiko spells it out for him. And even if by some miracle he _does_ figure it out, what then? Nothing will change. He'll still be nothing against  _Mikoto-san_ , so he lets out a frustrated sigh and says, "Why do you think?"

Misaki doesn't say anything so he continues, "Homra's not a place for me. It's never been a place for me."

Misaki throws another question, but he walked away before he was obligated to answer it.  _Why the Blues?_

Why  _not_? He gets paid to do basically nothing most of the time, his working conditions are great, he has subordinates he can order around, and most of all, it puts him in a  _perfect_  position to goad Misaki into fights without having to suffer being with him and listening to his  _Mikoto-san this_ and  _Mikoto-san that_  all the time.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoot me. A moment of silence for my ruined image of Yata and Fushimi. Oh, and for Mikoto and Shiro/Adolf who joined Totsuka a few days ago in K13. Let's be strong while we wait for Season two (and for Fushimi's character song).
> 
> The first part was written for the anon, and I was thinking they'd vanilla it in the warehouse, but I saw the prompt on LJ and I thought, hey what the heck, and by golly that was the worst decision I ever made.


End file.
